


Making and Unmaking, Wandering No More

by Vashti (tvashti)



Category: Twelve Houses - Shinn
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvashti/pseuds/Vashti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after war tore apart the land of Gillengaria a new chapter is ready to be written for more than just the young ser and serra preparing to be installed as marlady and marlord of their Houses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making and Unmaking, Wandering No More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macsi Liman](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Macsi+Liman).



> Thanks to my mother for helping me work out a major plot point.

Making and Unmaking, Wandering No More

 

Propped up on her elbow, Senneth watched her husband dress for the day with no small admiration.  Tayse was a big man and hard to miss once you noticed him—not that Senneth had any desire to not notice her husband. 

            It was noticing him in the first place that was the trouble.  It was amazing how easily he could slip in and out _un_noticed.  Senneth tried to make a point of at least being semi-conscious when he rose for the day, usually well before dawn, even if she herself had no intention of rising.  That didn’t mean she hadn’t missed his leave-taking on more than one occasion.  Purposefully, she thought.  Considerate as Tayse was of her own well-being, it would have been hard to imagine that he could be more attentive to anyone else’s needs if she hadn’t first met him as one of Baryn’s Riders.  And then it had been hard to imagine that his heart make room enough for anyone else to occupy even its tiniest corner.  His own mother hadn’t succeeded after all, nor his sister.  What would it take, she had wondered during the course of their long first adventure together, to make such a man love any woman, let alone a woman he’d despised.

             She still wasn’t sure she knew the answer, even if she had already heard Cammon’s own theorizing on the subject.  Though since Cammon was Gillengaria’s most gifted reader, as well as husband to the Queen, his “theorizing” might as well be fact. 

            Senneth found that she didn’t really care, and couldn’t bring herself to dwell on such questions for very long.  She was grateful to be loved by such a man after having long, long ago given up on anything resembling romantic love.  Too strong, too restless, too highborn, too earthy, too wild…too much of too many things that would put off many a man.

            Except Tayse.

            Doing the last of the buttons on his jacket, just before he slipped on his sash with its royal lion and the Queen’s raelynx, he turned to her.  She smiled up at him as he lowered himself enough to kiss her.  “Didn’t think you’d stay awake all this time,” he said finally. 

            He had, of course, known the moment she’d awoken.  And he had known that she hadn’t drifted back off sleep.  Senneth knew that the skills of the Queen’s Riders came through long hours of training and practice, but they seemed akin to the powers of a mystic nonetheless.  Or perhaps that was just Tayse.

            “I like watching you,” she said reaching for him.

            Tayse pulled away, a smile softening the severe lines of his face. 

            Groaning, Senneth rolled over, an arm thrown over her face.  “Is it me that you married or Queen Amalie?”

            “You.”

            Senneth dropped her arm from her face, surprise written on every plane.

            “But its to her I’ve sworn my fealty.”

            By the time she launched the pillow at him, he was reaching for the last of his gear and going out the door.  Still she was smiling for all his teasing.  It was true that the young Queen owned her husband’s truest and deepest loyalty, but no other person in this world or the next had carved into it even the tiniest niche for themselves.  Not even Senneth. 

            Tayse had carved it for her.

 

*

 

A sleep-clumsy hand reached for her in the dark.  Wen let herself be dragged back towards the center of the bed. “Where do you think you are going?” Jasper asked, quite bleary eyed.

            Straddling his waist under the covers and quilts and comforters, she leaned over to kiss him.  When he sighed contentedly she pulled back.

            Jasper caught her hand again.  “I may not be fully in use of my faculties, but I will not be so easily swayed.”

            Wen pushed hair out of her face, not sure if she should be smiling or frowning.  Careful so as not to hurt him, she peeled Jasper’s hand from her wrist, then she pulled brought his hand up to kiss the fine fingers.  “I have to go.”

            “It is obscenely early.”

            “And a long way to Ghosenhall.  I have to start preparations.”

            Even in the half-light of the setting moon, Wen could see Jasper’s troubled face.  “Haven’t you been getting ready for the better part of this month?”

            “Yes, but we leave today.”

            “Not for many hours, yet.”

            “Not too long after sunrise,” she reminded him as she placed his hand nearer his body.

            “Plenty of time—”

            “For you to catch up on your sleep.”

            Jasper raised an eyebrow.  “I can always sleep in the coach.  You cannot sleep in the saddle.”

            “Which is why I need to get back.”

            Frowning, Jasper recognized that he had been beaten at his own game.  “Fine, fine.  Abandon me to my fate.”

            Wen grinned.  Kneeling up on the high bed, she leaned forward and planted a quick hard kiss on his lips.  “Thank you.  I will.”

 

*

 

The child in Cammon’s arms stretched and reached for the air behind him.  Smiling, he brushed the girl’s hair out of her face.  Unlike his own hair (but quite like her mother’s) it was dark, sleek and smooth.  “What do are you looking at?”

            “Aunt Queen Amalie.”

            The smile turned into a grin.  That’s what he’d thought she’d say.  Amalie hadn’t believed him when he’d told her his theory.  Cammon might be the land’s most gifted reader, but that didn’t mean he could read thoughts like words on a page.  There was no way he could know for certain what a three-year-old girl saw.  Three-year-olds “saw” all sorts of things.  And so did four-year-olds and now five-year-olds.

            Cammon, however, had suspected all along that she could see Amalie’s projected self.  It would explain so much, actually.

            _I agree,_ Amalie said in his mind.  _Now don’t I feel silly.  You’d think I’d notice a toddler staring at me.  Especially in this state._

            “Uncle King Cammon.  What’s Aunt Queen Amalie saying?”

            He wondered if Justin and Ellynor knew just how mystic their daughter really was.

 

*

 

“Karryn.  _Karryn!_  Just listen to me!”  Ryne Coravann trailed the Fortunalt serramarra, his long strides lagging behind the young woman’s quick steps as she walked to coach waiting at the gate.

            “I’ve already listened to you,” Karryn replied more calmly than many of the watching House guard might have expected.  While the young serra had matured remarkably well since the guardsmen had been properly re-formed, her relationship with the young Coravann serremar could snap her right back into a girlish tantrum.  Not this time.

            “But Karryn—”

            She whirled on the young man.  “If it weren’t for the extremely close schedule we have to keep to make it to Ghosenhall in time, I would gladly tell you what a horrible person you’ve been, how you’ve destroyed my faith in you for the last time, and how I can’t believe that for the last five years—_five years!_—I actually believed that you had left the behind the rakish, daredevil, playboy in favor of being a mature serramar who lives up to his potential instead of living down to it!  But we are on a close schedule and I just do not have the time.”

            Stunned, he could only stare as she turned and stormed off.

            A footman helped her inside without a word.  All around the House guard stood at silent attention.  Inside the coach, her mother and uncle waited inside anxiously.

            Her mother threw her arms around her.  “Beautifully done.”

            Her uncle glowed.  “Agreed.”

            Karryn burst into tears.  Her uncle Jasper quickly took over for the easily discomposed Serephette.  They were at least a mile out of the Forten City before she was coherent enough for Jasper to understand her words.

            Offering her another handkerchief, the first being soaked, he said, “Perhaps you should give Ryne an opportunity to explain himself.”

            Karryn sniffed haughtily.  “That’s what he said.”

            Jasper shrugged as he gently levered his niece onto the seat proper.  Seeming to sense that things were better, or perhaps alerted by the House guards riding with the coach, Wen rode up to the window.  “Everything okay?”

            Wiping her nose with the fresh handkerchief, Karryn nodded.

            “I believe so,” Jasper said on her behalf.

            Wen spurred her horse forward and out of sight, presumably to check on their forward guard.

            “So…”  He returned his attention to his niece.  “Why won’t we give Ryne the benefit of the doubt?  You have to admit he’s been very faithful these last five years.”

            “There was that time—”

            But her uncle stopped her with a stern look.  “Karryn.  You aren’t still going to hold the incident with that Storian girl against him?”

            Karryn’s eyes blazed fire as she sat up.  “And why shouldn’t I?  Only months after he was all heroism and gallant attention, he goes off to a Solstice ball and forgets all his pretty words.”

            “And regretted them immediately.”

            Both Karryn and her mother made rude sounds, quite unbecoming of two high-ranking serramarra.

            Eyebrows raised he said, “Tell me then… How exactly did you find out about the incident with the Storian girl?”

            Much of the fire left Karryn’s face as she shifted in her seat.

            “I’m sorry.  I couldn’t quite make out what you were saying.”

            Taking a deep breath, the serra stopped shifting and squared her shoulder.  “Ryne told me.”

            “That’s right, he did.  And I suppose you had to pry the information out of him, since you had spied him with this unworthy female at the Solstice ball after all.”

            Rolling her eyes in defeat, Karryn admitted that she had been nowhere near Storian, nor had anyone of her close acquaintance at the time.  Lindy had been at home with them, and Karryn hadn’t yet made many friends.  None particularly trustworthy, at any rate.  If any of _them_ had come to her with tales of Ryne’s  unfaithfulness she probably would have put it down as pure female hostility on their part.  Ryne was one of the most sought after serremars in Gillengaria, despite not being next in line to inherit.

            But he’d told her himself.  He had been supposed to go home to Coravann, but he’d detoured drastically to come to Fortunalt and confess his sins and beg for forgiveness.

            “If he was willing to face up to the music then, when there were no witnesses and very little chance of being discovered by you, why would he lie to you now.”

            Karryn knew she was wearing a black look.  It was just that she didn’t like her uncle’s logic, even though she knew it was sound.

            Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest, disturbing the simple pearl pendant hanging from it’s long chain.  “I’ll talk to him as soon as we get home.”

            Her mother harrumphed.

            Jasper reached over and pulled her close so he could kiss her temple.  “I’m very proud of you, Karryn.  I’m sure if this quarrel had been between you and anyone else you would have had an easier time coming to this very same conclusion.  But the course of love is rarely smooth.”

 

*

 

Assured by Milo himself that Senneth was in her room, Kirra Danalustrous felt no qualms about storming into her friend’s room with only the most fleeting knock as a warning.

            Which she did in a whirlwind of pale gold and embroidered red flowers on her body and gleaming pins holding back her wild golden hair.  “Guess what—Senneth Brassenthwaite!  Red and silver hell, what are you doing with _that_?!”

            Senneth had, of course, turned at the sound of the door.  She had also expected that whoever was on the other side would wait to be allowed entrance.  With anyone else she’d have had time to cross the room and open the door herself.  Kirra, however, rarely bound herself to the rules of polite society when she could help it.

            What Senneth had failed to do, however, was hide the dangling moonstone pendant she had been stringing to a lengthy chain.  And it was to this that Kirra was presumably objecting.

            Senneth turned away from Kirra’s striking beauty, facing the mirror of her vanity once again.  “Hello, Serra Kirra.  Where’s Donnal?” she asked casually.

            Never one to be put off, Kirra went striding across the room until she was standing beside the taller woman.  “Senneth!”

            “You look particularly well today, Serra.  How were your travels?” she continued as if she couldn’t feel Kirra’s outraged confusion.

            “Travels?  Travels?!  Who cares about traveling when you’ve got a moonstone in your fist?”  Kirra poked her arm hard.

            Senneth scowled.  

            “I thought you couldn’t stand the touch of moonstone anymore!  _Sen!_  You’ve been keeping secrets.”  Kirra crossed her arms.  She all but tapped her foot in her impatience.

            Sighing, Senneth stopped fiddling with the clasp of the necklace and stepped away from the vanity.  Kirra followed her to the bed, but sat on the far side.  “I’m not getting anywhere near that thing.”

            Senneth threw a pillow at her.  “As if you haven’t faced worse dangers than a mere hunk of rock.”

            Kirra threw the pillow back.  “_Those_ dangers I could bite or claw or fly away from.  Those things…”  She gestured derisively at the pendant and chain in Senneth’s hand.  “…have been nothing but trouble and are not so easily gotten away from.

            “Now tell the truth, Senneth, has your magic fully returned?”  On Kirra’s beautiful face was a mixture of apprehension, hope and fear.  “I saw you only a few months ago at the end of winter.  You weren’t wearing a moonstone then, were you?”

            The older woman shook her head.  “No.  I wasn’t.”

            “Then what’s changed?”

            Senneth spread her hands.  “All I know is that in the last month or so I feel fire in my veins again as I haven’t felt it since the war.  Since before the war.”

            Eyebrows climbing, Kirra said, “Strong enough that you feel the need to contain this power…with moonstone?”

            Instead of answering her, Senneth tried again to fasten the pendant around her neck.  This time she succeeded.  She slipped it under the high neck of her inky blue gown, far from sight and far distant from the usual pendant she wore: a bright gold disk surrounded by a filigree of gold.  That she left where it was.  If her dress were less modest, both pendants would have lain just between her breasts, covering the styled house mark that had been burned into her skin (and every other noble of the Twelve Houses) when she had been too young to remember it.  As it was, the gold pendant served to hide the lump of the moonstone under her dress.

            Arching a brow, Kirra asked, “Does Tayse know?”

            Senneth was slow to answer.

            “You know he’ll find out sooner or later.  And knowing him, sooner.”

            Senneth sighed.  “I know.  I just…want to be sure.  I have felt a growing wander-lust as well.”

            It was almost the wrong thing to say.  Kirra, irrepressible and outrageously outspoken serramarra and shiftling of Danalustrous, was momentarily struck speechless. 

            Leaning across the bed, her eyebrows drawn together, Senneth placed her hand on Kirra’s forehead.  “Are you all right?”

            “Me?  Am I all right?  You tell me that you power has made a sudden and miraculous turn and that you are feeling the need to walk away from Tayse, and you’re asking me if _I’m_ all right?”

            Senneth was laughing before even half of Kirra’s speech was out.  “I’m not planning on going anywhere.  And even if I was, I wouldn’t be _leaving_ Tayse.  Not for long at least.  I think an errand for the Queen would satisfy this craving to travel quite well.  Perhaps I would need an escort.  To give me consequence.”

            Kirra grinned at that last.  “But, Sen, you’d seemed rather settled.”

            “Which was surprising in its own right when I noticed that myself.  It’s no less surprising now that I feel the need to be on the move again.”

            “Have you any idea what might have sparked…”  Kirra gestured vaguely, as if to include the entire room.  “…all this?”

            “Ideas, yes.  But nothing definite.”

            “Oh good.  I was hoping you’d say that.  Tell me everything.”

            Raising a brow, Senneth said, “Don’t you think I should discuss this with Tayse first?”

            “Whatever for?  Him you see every day.  Me you’re lucky to see for three days running.  If I don’t find out now, the two of you will be on the road to…to the Lirrens or something before I get another chance to ask.”

            Senneth laughed.

 

*

 

A weight Wen had not known she had been carrying lifted from her shoulders as they passed through the gates and then the streets of Ghosenhall.  It had been five, nearly six, years since she had been in the royal city.  She’d left it hurt and irreparably broken.  Or she’d thought.  The aching wound of Rider survived her king’s death was not as terrible now as it had been.  She knew that it was in no small part to the men and women riding with her.  And to the man riding in the carriage between them all. 

            Still she hadn’t ever gone back to Ghosenhall, even after she had become reconciled with the Riders she had left behind. Many of them had come to see her in their own travels through the countryside.  The whole lot of them had all but taken over the training yard at Fortune when Queen Amalie had finally made her trip through Gillengaria.  It had been a grand time.  Wen wasn’t actually sure who had enjoyed themselves more: her and the Riders, or Fortune’s house guard and the Riders.  As captain, Wen had trained her people to the best of her ability as a Rider.  Many of them would never be as good as the Queen’s personal guardsmen, but they put up a good fight and made a good showing of themselves—and their captain.

            Wen found herself grinning even as part of her mind was devoted to the watching the crowd surrounding the carriage.  Malton and Moss, riding with the carriage, never stopped their roving gaze.  None of the Fortune guard let up their vigilance, even for a moment, despite Ghosenhall being the safest city in Gillengaria.  Wen was also sure that for many of them this was their first trip to the royal city.  Yet they ignored all its pretty lanes and well dressed people.

            Glancing at his captain, Orson asked, “What’s got you bright and shining so?”

            “Us.”

            The older man snorted good-naturedly.  “Well if that’s it.”

 

*

 

Senneth reached down to scratch Donnal behind the ears.  “I knew if this one were here you couldn’t be far behind.”

            The big black dog, a mongrel, barked good-naturedly. 

            “Not going to change into a man?  Not even for installation of Gillengaria’s most eagerly awaited marlord and marlady?”

            He cocked his head to one side as if considering.

            Senneth laughed and Kirra, standing just behind Donnal.  “Fine, fine.  Have it your way.  But I’m sure Cammon would like to have a conversation with you, even if to him you look exactly like yourself.  And Justin hasn’t seen you as a man in— ”

            “Ages.”

            Senneth turned to see the Queen’s Rider in question striding toward the kitchens where she and Kirra had found Donnal lazing in the sun. 

            “That Donnal?” Justin asked.

            “No other dog could tolerate me this long,” Kirra said flippantly.

            “Isn’t that the truth.”  But his encompassing bear-hug belied his words as he all but lifted the golden-haired mystic off her feet.

            Flushed with giddy laughter, Kirra said, “My aren’t we in a good mood.”

            “Everyone’s here.  Or will be soon enough.”  Justin knelt on the floor-strewn tiles to tousle with Donnal.

            Senneth and Kirra shared a look over their heads.  Trust Justin to get to the heart of anything.

 

*

 

 

Senneth and Kirra waited to be announced, Donnal at Kirra’s heel, before presenting themselves to Queen Amalie and Cammon.

            Amalie quickly strode across the room, lifting them from the curtseys.  Smiling, she even touched Donnal’s head to get up from the floor.  “It’s hard to imagine that so much time has passed already,” she said as she embraced each woman in turn.  Donnal licked her hand before trotting over to Cammon’s side.  In true form, they immediately fell into conversation—one such that only a gifted reader can have with a shiftling in animal form.

            “Five whole years,” the young queen said as she seated herself on a pale pink divan.

            They were in Amalie’s private receiving room, little changed from when she was a girl although it had become markedly more cluttered.  The pale pink and gold color scheme was still the same, however, as was much of the furniture.  The colors suited the queen’s own strawberry blond hair and sweet face.  There were more bookshelves, both Senneth and Kirra noted, as well as maps and parchment and pillows in odd places.  Like the one on the small coffee table between them.

            Spying it, Amalie grinned, picked it up and placed it behind her. 

            “So tell me, are we ready for this afternoon?  I’ve already spoken to Tayse about security.  Milo has accommodations for the Fortunalt and Gisseltess contingents.  My kitchens have been working non-stop.”

            “To which I can delightfully attest,” Senneth said, her face lighting up.

            “That hasn’t been a hardship at all, I agree.”  Amalie was immediately serious again.  “The only question is that of the representatives of the gods and for the mystics.”

            “I can’t speak for the gods, Majesty, but the mystics are all ready,” Senneth confirmed.  Kirra nodded in agreement.  She had been specifically requested to represent shiftlings—her sister Casserah and her husband Darryn were here to represent House Danalustrous.

            “Good then.  I want this all to go smoothly.  The installation of Warren Gisseltess and Karryn Fortunalt as marlord and marlady of their respective Houses will truly mark a new chapter in the story of Gillengaria.  One that is not so divided as it has been all these years.”

            Talk quickly turned to other matters of politics.  Kirra as an unrepentant wanderer reported on the current mood of the land, the state of towns and villages, and any other thing she thought might interest their Queen.  At some point Cammon and Donnal’s conversation finished and they joined the other women. 

            Cammon, for no reason any of them could fathom (not even Donnal), was grinning like a silly fool.  He looked fit to burst with something and so Kirra shook her head, breaking into her own conversation.  “What is it, Majesty?  I feel like if I don’t let you talk whatever you have to say will just burst out anyway.”

            “I’m not that bad,” he protested.  But it was clear that he was excited since he hadn’t corrected Kirra about the title.

            Senneth snorted and so did Amalie.  Even Donnal was wearing a doggie grin.

            Looking a bit deflated, Cammon said, “I guess I’m just a little anxious to congratulate Senneth.”

            Senneth and Kirra shared a look. 

            “About the baby?”

            Kirra hit her friend hard.  “You didn’t tell me!”

            “I hadn’t told anyone.”  She glared at Cammon but it hardly seemed to register.  He and Amalie were sharing a silent communication and paying the two serramarra no mind whatsoever.  Donnal, however, came over to sniff Senneth.

            “Stop that!”

            He “laughed” again, crouching down to lie at hers and Kirra’s feet.  Or perhaps just Kirra’s feet.

            “We’re pregnant, too.”

            That brought Senneth and Kirra’s attention back. 

            Amalie had colored slightly, but she looked as fiercely strong as she did facing down a room of advisors that thought they knew better than their young Queen.  “We weren’t going to tell anyone yet,” she continued, “but since it’s just friends here…”

            “Ooh!” Kirra squealed.  “Your Majesties!  Oh but I have to keep it secret don’t I?”

            Amalie nodded.  “For now.”

            “But you’re great at keeping secrets, Kirra,” Cammon said.

            “Yes, but I’d much rather share this one.  These two.”  She gave Senneth a sidelong glance.

            Senneth gaze was hot enough almost to set Kirra’s hair on fire.

            The golden-haired serra threw her head back and laughed.  “No need to threaten, Sen.  I won’t tell.”

            “I haven’t said anything.  Yet.”

            “It doesn’t take a reader to feel the threat behind that one.”

            Sighing, Senneth turned her attention to the royal couple.  “Have you told Ariane yet?”

            The Queen and Consort shook their heads.  “We will tonight.  After the festivities.”

            “I don’t know who will be happier with the news.”

            Cammon gave Senneth a knowing look.  “You haven’t told Tayse.”

            She sighed again.  “I wasn’t sure.  I didn’t want to say and not know for certain.”

            He reached across the small table and placed a hand on her hand—her hot, hot hand.  “It will be okay.”

            Senneth’s smile was small and tight. “I thought you weren’t clairvoyant, Majesty.”

            “Not clairvoyant.  I just know Tayse.”

 

*

 

Standing behind the velvet rope next to Serephette, Jasper scanned the growing crowds.  In theory he was searching for familiar faces.  In truth he was looking only for one face.  One small face.

            Wen scowled when he described her features as delicate.  _“I’m a soldier,”_ she would protest.

            _“A delicate soldier,”_ he would reply.  Usually she allowed it, but one night she’d slipped out of bed and begun to dress though it was full dark.

            _“What’s wrong?  What have I said?”_

            She wouldn’t turn to him as she dressed.  _“You keep trying to make me into one of the fine ladies in your books—”_

_            “Some of those fine ladies were quite dangerous.  As we’ve learned first hand,”_ he’d pointed out.

_            “I’m not like them.  I never have and I never will be,”_ she’d said brusquely as she’d continued to dress.

            _“ ‘Delicate’ doesn’t just mean…slight or fragile or weak.  It also means subtle, elusive.”_  She had stopped dressing then, though she didn’t turn, so he had continued._  “Fine as in well-crafted.  And dainty as in short.”_

            Wen had made a rude noise, but he’d known that she had no longer been mad at him and his questionable choice of words.  For she was all those words: well-crafted, superior in quality, subtle and elusive.  Once at the very beginning of their relationship she had said that they would both walk away once the other became bored.  He had told her then that he doubted the likelihood of such an event.  Nearly five years later, he continued to be proven right.  Trying to pin down Wen was like trying to pin down shadows.  As soon as he thought he had some aspect of her figured out, she slipped out of his grasp, changing shape and color and depth as she did so.  She didn’t agree with him.  She told him that she was just an ordinary soldier.

            Jasper begged to differ.

            He put those thoughts away, however, as the ceremony to instate his niece and the Gisseltess heir, Warren, as marlady and marlord of their respective Houses began.  Queen Amalie and the Royal Consort, Cammon, were already standing on a raised dais erected in the middle of the receiving hall.  From the other end the wide doors of the receiving hall were opened.  Karryn and Warren, dressed in the colors of their Houses, were framed in the wide doors, a small entourage of three House guards apiece standing at attention behind them.  They would have to pass a gauntlet of marlords and –ladies or their representative ser and serra, as well as the still very new serlords and –ladies or their representatives.  There was also a contingent of mystics, and beside them a row of priests and priestesses to gods and goddesses the land had almost forgotten.  The priestess for the Pale Mother, Jasper noted, was as far from the mystics as she could be placed.  Then there were the Queen’s Riders, as well as the eyes of all the nobles who had come to watch the spectacle.

            Jasper’s heart went out to Karryn.  She had been a shy girl for most of her life, not quite able to enjoy being the center of attention after her father’s cruelty.  Though she had grown much since his death, something like this was bound to try her.  Jasper knew that she could manage it.  He only hoped that she knew as well.

            The two young people walked the aisle created for them, eyes forward, heads held high, in a silence so thick it was deafening.  It seemed as if no one dared to breathe, let alone twitch and risk the rustle of cloth.  Across the way he spied Nathan Brassenthwaite and Sabina Gisseltess.  Both had their eyes fixed on Warren.  The boy had much of his father’s stamp on his face.  Jasper hoped that was as far as it went.

            The young people stopped at the foot of the dais.

            The Queen stepped down to meet them. 

 

*

 

Tayse’s eyes were fixed on his Queen as she stepped down to meet Warren Gisseltess and Karryn Fortunalt.  If there was going to be an attack, it would be here.  It would be now.  Nearly every important person from every walk of life was here.  Or if they were not able come in person, they had sent their next-in-line to represent them.  It would be the perfect opportunity to assassinate one or all of them.  Tayse’s first priority, however, was the Queen and her husband. 

            To that end there was a small phalanx of Riders behind Queen Amalie and Cammon, almost mirroring the three guards each behind Gisseltess and Fortunalt.  Twenty Riders stood at the end of the aisle.  If disaster did come they could close ranks around the royal couple, the ser and serra and their House guards.  Or quickly dispatch of the ser, serra and their House guards.  The other eighteen Riders were strategically stationed at doorways and through the crowd. 

            Even the mystics had been arrayed in such a way as to be a first line of defense if need be: Senneth closest to the Riders and the Queen, talents of less devastating effect positioned further away.  And then, of course, there was Cammon.  He seemingly paid as little attention to his wife’s words as Tayse did, eyes scanning the crowds.  Tayse tensed whenever his roving gaze remained too long on one person.  It only truly lingered once, and that for a long while, but before Tayse could make his way to the young mystic Cammon caught his eye and smiled, shaking his head.  Whatever had interested him wasn’t something to interest Tayse.  Which was all that the Rider cared to know about it.

 

*

 

Wen caught Karryn’s bright smile before turned to let her mistress pass before her.  Queen Amalie and King Cammon (she had heard how much he hated the title, but thought it fit) had already gone ahead.  Karryn, Warren Gisseltess, Wen and Orson and Moss, and the Gisseltess House guard followed behind, flanked by no less than fifteen Riders on either side.  Riders not stationed at doorways were slowly making their through the crowd and closer to their Queen.  Wen would have found it intimidating if she hadn’t been a Rider herself and expecting this.  Behind them would come the mystics, the priests and priestesses of Gillengaria’s twelve gods and then all the other nobles, by House and then by Manor.

            Instead Wen allowed herself to be happy for Karryn.  In the five years that Wen had known her, she had seen her bloom from a shy uncertain girl into a self-assured, though still sometimes shy, young woman.  And now Marlady of Fortunalt.  It was a day they had all been eagerly anticipating. 

            A day of many changes.  She remembered a time when five years would have seemed impossibly long.  Now she had no idea how they had passed so quickly.  What would she do now?  Jasper no longer had to stay at Forten City, though she doubted that he would leave his niece.  Karryn had grown in many ways, but she was still very young.  She had still spent more of her life under her father’s cruelty than as a woman who not only knew her own mind, but had the power to act upon her own wishes. 

            And Wen did not want to have to choose between two people she loved.

            She pushed the idle thoughts out of her head, however, as Cammon, far ahead of but still visible, cocked his head to one side.

            Wen wasn’t the only one.  All down the line, Riders were tensing, hands going to weapons.  All they waited for was a signal from Cammon or Tayse.  It would be the perfect opportunity for an assassination of not just the Queen, but so many Twelfth House nobles or the new Manor Lords.  Certainly fear and contempt of the mystics was still high.  Slaying Cammon, or any of the mystics who had been part of the ceremony, would be a bold statement indeed.  And this public reintroduction of all of Gillengaria’s pantheon? 

            Wen pushed it out of her mind.  None of that was important.  Karryn was her first priority.  The Riders would see to Queen Amalie and Cammon.

            With a gesture she indicated for Moss and Orson to move closer to their mistress, and noted that the Gisseltess guards were doing the same.  She couldn’t tell if the thick press of nobles realized that something was the matter, and didn’t care.

            Suddenly a startled shriek cut the rustling silence.  As if given a cue, a murmuring buzz filled the great chamber as people looked for the source of outburst.

            “She was just there!  But where has she gone?” someone, a woman, was saying.

            Wen motioned for Moss and Orson to hustle Karryn forward.  She knew that Riders would be doing the same and had no fear that they would run into interference.  Better to be caught in the midst of the greater force than outside of it and on their own.

            “I’m telling you she disappeared!  Serra Lauren was standing right beside me!”

            Serra Laura?  Wasn’t that—

            “The western gate,” Cammon shouted out. 

            Every head turned.

            “Bar it!”

            The two Riders immediately blocked it with their bodies and their naked swords.  And every door at that end.  The royal part was far—as was everyone—from that end of the hall, and so they stopped moving.

            Orson and Moss allowed Karryn to push past them so she could talk to Wen.  “What do you think is going on?”

            Wen shook her head.  “I can only guess, serra.”  She flashed Karryn a quick grin.  “I mean ‘Marlady.’”

            Karryn blushed and ducked her head.  “Well what do you guess?  I don’t even have one.”

            “It sounds like someone is trying to smuggle serra Lauren out of the hall.”

            “You mean kidnap?”  Karryn had more than a little experience with that.

            Wen nodded.  “Or murder.”

            The new marlady’s face grew stern.  “How can we help?”

            “We stay out of the king’s and the Riders’ way.  That’s how we help.”

            “What about Moss?”

            Hearing her name, the solidly built guardswoman joined them.  “What about me, marlady?”

            Karryn blushed again, but went on.  “Can you make it so that this person can’t move.  Him and the serra?”  
            The guardswoman frowned.  “I could if I knew where they were.”

            Wen thought for a moment.  “Cammon knows where this person is.  Look at him, how his head turns.  I bet he’s tracking the serra’s attacker, but he won’t stay still long enough for Cammon to tell someone where to stab.”

            Just then a Rider pushed into their group—past Warren Gisseltess and his House guard who had been listening as well.  “Cammon says that Moss can help him.  You’re Moss, aren’t you?”  He turned unerringly to the pale, blonde woman.

            A bit startled, they all stared for a moment, but Wen perked immediately.  “Justin!” 

            He flashed her a smile. 

            “Go with him,” she ordered Moss.  They hurried away.

            “What now?” Karryn asked. 

            “Orson and I regroup since we’re down one.”

            Karryn huffed in exasperation.  “I meant about the _attacker_.”

            “Oh I don’t think we’ll have to wait—”

            A sudden surge of movement by three of the Riders guarding doors at the west end of the hall cut her off.  A quick glance to the front of their party showed Cammon with one hand on Moss’ face, the other pointing, and Moss with both hands extended.

            One of the Riders, Janni, Wen could see, reached out to grab empty air.  And disappeared.

            There was a collective gasp.

            “Ryne does that,” Karryn said a little breathlessly.

            Suddenly, as if popping a soap bubble, Janni reappeared, an arm around the neck of a familiar young noble.

            _“Ryne!”_ Karryn cried.

            Orson caught her arms from behind and Wen stepped in front of her.  The marlady struggled only briefly before remembering that she was, in fact, a marlady and ought not to make a scene. 

            Warren Gisseltess chose that moment to come to her side.  “You know him?”

            Taking a deep breath, she nodded once, sharply.  “He’s ser Ryne Coravann.  But I don’t know him very well at all.”

 

*

 

Marlady Karryn Fortunalt insisted on being present when Ryne Coravann was brought before Amalie and Cammon, and her uncle, Jasper Fortunalt, insisted on accompanying her.

            Senneth knew it was because of their romantic connection.  It wasn’t terribly well known amongst the Twelve Houses—as a young serra with the shadow of inheritance hanging over her, she had kept mostly to her own lands as Fortunalt continued to rebuild—but between the two families it was quite certain that the two would marry as soon as Karryn was old enough and sure enough.  Kirra had somehow found out about it and had been anxious for the news of an engagement for a year or more.

            That seemed very unlikely now.

            At one end of the room stood serra Lauren, Ryne’s elder sister and future marlady of Coravann House.  At the other stood marlady Karryn and her uncle and Wen, the captain of their House guard.  Ryne stood in the center of the room, flanked by Tayse and Justin on one side and Senneth herself behind.  More Riders guarded the door and Kirra stood with them, ready to become something ferocious.  Donnal, of course, was there to guard Kirra. 

            Senneth didn’t think it was all necessary, but much better to be safe than sorry.  Who knew, for example, that one of Heffel Coravann’s children had inherited some of their Lirren mother’s mystic talent.  Not very much.  Janni’s presence had overtaxed his magic quickly. 

            The question now was why had he been trying to abduct his sister in the first place.  As far as anyone knew Ryne had no desire to be marlord in his sister’s place.  So what had sparked an abduction in such a public place.

            “I wasn’t trying to abduct my sister,” Ryne said, answering the Queen’s question.  “I was trying to take her into a hall so I could talk to her.”

            “You weren’t feeling like talking to her,” Cammon said, all seriousness.  “You were feeling murderous.”

            Ryne flashed a dangerous glare at his sister.  Hands went to sword hilts all around the room.  “I’ll admit that I wasn’t particularly calm, and that I could have just as easily throttled Lauren as looked at her, but then I’d have to become marlord and that’s the very last thing that I want.”

            Nodding, Cammon said, “He’s telling the truth.”

            “Then why did you want to talk to her?” Amalie asked.

            “She has been trying to destroy my reputation with Karryn.”

            “That’s not very hard,” Amalie said gravely.

            “He’s been better,” Karryn said softly.  “I know he has a reputation for being…”  She let her words drift off and no one finished the sentence.  “But in the last few years he’s been perfectly respectable.”

            Her uncle, sitting beside her, nodded.

            Amalie turned to the serramarra.  “Is what your brother says true?”

            Senneth saw her thinking over her answer, before glancing at Cammon.  When she scowled she looked very much like her brother.  “Yes.”

            From across the room, the new marlady gasped.  Clearly puzzled, Amalie asked why.

            “After all that has been lost by our House and all of Gillengaria and all our kin, I could not let Ryne ally himself the daughter of that traitor,” she said with self-righteous hauteur.  “I knew that he was fixed on her, but I was sure that I plant seeds of doubt in her.  I was sure that she was not as fixed on my brother.”

            Even Senneth was staring at the serramarra.  Just because it was typical Twelfth House deception didn’t make it any less shocking to hear.

            Amalie, who had been standing in front of her desk, sat down.  “Please release the serramar.”

            The two Riders stepped away, their hands moving away from their weapons.  Ryne immediately went to Karryn’s side.  He knelt at her feet.  “I’ve only been waiting for you to be sure, for you to be a little older and sure of yourself.  I don’t care for your title, although it is nice,” he added with a grin.  “I have enough fortune that yours doesn’t matter.  All I’m missing is you.  Marry me, Karryn.”

            The young marlady had her hand to her mouth.  Her uncle passed her a handkerchief.  Wen, beside him, looked rather pleased.

            “You’re not saying no.”

            She shook her head.

            “So you’re saying yes.”

            She shook her head vigorously, her heavy dark hair dancing wildly.  Ryne jumped up and swung her around.

            Senneth smiled.  She caught Tayse’s eye and he returned the smile.  Kirra bounded up to them.  Catching Senneth’s hand, she pulled the tall blond woman down to whisper in her ear: “Tell him now.  It’s a terribly romantic moment.  These things go over much better in this kind of atmosphere.”

            Frowning, Senneth pulled away.  She would have rolled her eyes except Cammon had positioned himself in just such a way so that he was the first person she saw when she looked up.  He was nodding hard enough to make his disreputable hair even worse.  Beside him Amalie grinned.

            Sighing she ran her hands through her hair and approached her husband.

 

*

 

Jasper’s eyes flicked from Karryn and Ryne, still making a rather silly show of themselves, to Wen who was sharing a smile with someone across the room.  Jasper looked.  Ah, the Rider who had come to visit with his wife Ellynor and daughter Ceribel.  Wen considered him a good friend.  Him and all the Riders, actually.

            “He’ll make her happy,” she said suddenly.

            Jasper nodded.  “I believe he will.  And send anyone who tries to stop him straight to a red and silver hell.”

            Wen chuckled.

            “I could make you happy.”

            She stopped laughing.

            “I am no longer Karryn’s regent,” Jasper continued, trying very hard not to give in to nerves.   “I think she still needs guidance, but I’m free to do as I choose now.”

            Wen merely stared.

            “I know you said I might become bored with you.  It seems much likely to go the other way ‘round.”

            “What…what about your daughter?”

            Jasper grinned.  “You know she likes you very well.  I think she approves of someone who forces me out of my rooms on a consistent basis.”

            “But you’re a noble.”

            He shrugged.  “Fortunalt nobles have a history of making questionable choices in marriage.  As you well know.”  He’d spent one whole evening telling her as many outrageous stories as he could remember.  They’d had a hard time keeping quiet.  “And Riders aren’t particularly well known for their conventional choices either.”

            The Queen’s First Rider had married the most powerful mystic in Gillengaria, and Wen’s friend Justin had married a Lirren girl. 

            When she still didn’t answer, Jasper nodded, turning away.  “Think on it, if you like.  Don't feel as if—”

            “Yes.”

            He glanced down at her.  “Yes you’ll…”

            “After Karryn and Ryne are settled.  Else we’ll have to elope.  Trying to secure a wedding is a nightmare.”

            Jasper threw back his head and laughed.

 

*

 

Hand in Donnal’s thick fur—he’d been a man briefly during the installation ceremony, and would probably be so again to spar with Justin—Kirra turned at the sound of the Fortunalt regent laughing.  “I wonder what’s happening there.  Besides the obvious,” she said with a soft smile.  Oblivious to everyone else, the young lovers were sitting in a corner discussing their new happiness.

            One of the Riders at the door had very thoughtfully escorted Lauren Coravann out of the room.

            Most of Kirra’s attention, however, was on the two people standing almost at its center.  She couldn’t hear Senneth’s words, couldn’t see her friend’s face, but she could see Tayse’s.  Justin had stepped a polite distance away once it became clear this was a private discussion, but he too was watching them intently.  At one point he caught her eye and through gestures asked her what was going on.  Kirra could only smile and indicate that he should keep watching.

            Tayse’s face refused to change as she kept expecting.  If not for Cammon’s steady, wild grin she would have despaired utterly.  Riders were notoriously _not_ family men and women.  Justin and his family were almost the exception to the rule.  Even Tayse, to whom the other Rider looked up to as a father, could scarcely remember when he’d last seen or spoken to his own mother.

            Kirra started as Tayse grabbed Senneth around the waist and lifted her into the air and slowly turned her.  Senneth’s throaty chuckle filled the room.  The temperature in the room immediately climbed ten degrees.  Senneth had become a living wick, reaching for her husband.  Her hands touched his face as he lowered her.  And when he brought her lips to his, he glowed as if he had swallowed her fire whole.

 

-Fin-


End file.
